


Les Mis Ficlets

by yukiawison



Series: Ficlet Collections [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Les Amis - Freeform, M/M, Multi, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-09 15:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12890805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: Les Mis ficlets from tumblr.(1-6 from fic-vember 2k17)(7-10 from ficvember 2018)





	1. Pre-Party

**Author's Note:**

> (e/r)

Enjolras was early. He usually was, on principle, but when it came to parties early wasn’t exactly ideal. He fidgeted on the doorstep for a moment, pulling his jean jacket tighter around himself and checking his wrist watch. There were no other cars in the driveway, that is apart from Grantaire’s beat up station wagon. After a moment or two he knocked. 

“Hey.” Enjolras was floored momentarily by the image of R in an apron. He leaned on the door frame, a little breathless. There was some flour in his dark hair. “Come on in, I’m still getting ready,” he said with a strained smile.   
“Where’s Courf?” Enjolras asked, as R stepped back and gave him space to enter. Grantaire and Courfeyrac’s apartment was usually (pleasantly) cluttered with art supplies and beer cans and homework that clogged end tables and counters. Now, however, the place was spotless and smelled overwhelmingly of sugar cookies. 

“He’s picking up some last minute stuff,” R said, hurrying back to the kitchen. A timer went off and he pulled a tray out of the oven. “Who’d you get for Secret Snowflake?”

Enjolras bristled. “I can’t tell you yet. It’s still a secret.”

R laughed lightly and Enjolras found a place at the kitchen table. Unlike the rest of the apartment, the kitchen was a disaster zone: stray dough in scraps at one end of the counter, charred cookie remains at another, over turned mixing bowls and egg shells cluttering all free space. “You haven’t been working too hard I hope?” He asked seriously. 

“That’s fresh coming from you,” R shot back, turning back from the cooling rack he was scooping the cookies onto to look at him. His gaze had started to look sharper now that he was sober. It had always been sharp; sometimes R could dissolve whatever retort Enjolras had for him with one mirthful, cutting, look. But now it seemed warmer. The fierce intent was still there, but now so was agency and presence and fire that Enjolras had heretofore been grasping at straws to find in him. 

“Alright,” he said, backing off. In honesty he’d been surprised when R suggested the winter holiday party be at his place this year. Courf was quick to second the motion, but nevertheless it had been the cynic’s suggestion. “Can I help with anything?”

“Sure.” He rolled up his sleeves and reached for a container of icing. “Use some of your abundant fervor to decorate these cookies.”  
Enjolras took the knife and icing he offered and proceeded carefully to a cookie shaped like a star. He was bad at it. He always was at these sort of things. The icing got on the counter and the sprinkles were unevenly applied. They worked in silence, R producing a generally more successful product than his, though his withdrawal tremors hindered him a bit. 

“I have Jehan,” R said after a bit. He glanced over at him with a smirk. “I knitted them something monstrous.”

“It’s supposed to be a secret,” Enjolras repeated, looking down at the rainbow sprinkles stuck to his fingers with a clump of chocolate icing. 

“My therapist says secrets are no good, Apollo.” Enjolras looked up first this time, and caught the full intensity of his look when R met his eyes. He’d never explained why he’d finally decided to get help and Enjolras didn’t think it his place to ask. It didn’t matter anyway. What mattered was that he got better. Yet, he thought maybe this look was a hint. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” R said. “So I’ll tell you  _now_  that your cookies are a hot mess.”

Enjolras laughed. He didn’t know why it poured out of him so easily but it felt right to laugh like this with R. It felt right to be honest and unguarded in a kitchen that smelled like vanilla and tasted like sprinkles. 

“If we’re telling secrets then I have something for you,” he said quietly. 

“What?” R replied, almost a whisper. 

“I’m really proud of you. And I’m glad you’re one of us, even if we do nothing but butt heads at the meetings." 

"Enjolras…”

“I’m glad we’re friends R,” he finished, feeling oddly flustered. What time was it? When were the others going to arrive?

“My turn then?” R said, shaking his head as if waking from a dream. He didn’t respond to Enjolras’s admission. 

“Fine.”

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” he said, expression changing only slightly, so slightly you could blink and miss it. Soft, that’s what it was. 

“I got you a sketchbook for Secret Snowflake,” Enjolras replied. “And thank you.”

“No, thank you.” He gestured to the cookies. “They’re the kind of hot mess this party needs.”

“Right,” Enjolras said. “Of course they are.” 


	2. Try You On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Eposette)

“Oh you have to try this on Cosette.” Eponine held up a light blue dress with white polka dots. It was very 50s and very Cosette.   
  
She and Eponine were shopping at the tiny thrift store they always passed and Ep pointed to with a smile but they’d never been in until now. The racks were full of bright, beautiful clothing and scrunched too close together. Which meant Cosette and Eponine were too close together.   
  
Ep handed her the dress and leaned over the clothing rack again. Her dark hair fell over her face and Cosette could smell the strawberry shampoo she’d admitted to using while wearing dark lipstick and a spiky leather jacket. Cosette’s heart rate quickened fractionally. She was trying not to be too obvious about the embarrassing crush she’d had on her friend since freshman year. Now they were juniors (and often classmates given that they were both social work majors) and she was still hopeless.   
  
“You ready to find a dressing room?” Eponine asked, looking up at her again. Her unruly eyebrows arched dramatically and Cosette nodded.   
  
Ep had a handful of things: the green velvet jumpsuit Cosette had thrust on her, some 70s looking jeans with embroidery on the pockets, and a few flannels that looked too cozy not to at least try on. Cosette was content with her dress, a pink skirt that looked vaguely like a tutu, and a cable knit sweater that she was sure Marius would end up stealing if she bought.  
  
The dressing rooms were crowded. They waited 20 minutes before one opened and it didn’t look like another vacancy was in sight. “Go ahead,” Ep said. “I’ll get the next one.”  
  
“We could share,” Cosette blurted before she was fully aware of what she was saying. “I mean there’s room for us to stand back to back and uh…I mean if you’re okay with…”  
  
Eponine laughed. “Sure, let’s share.”  
  
Cosette closed her eyes for good measure but it didn’t keep her from blushing ridiculously as Eponine undressed behind her. “Let me know when you’re ready,” Ep said, as Cosette tried to zip the back of her dress up. “You can tell me what you think,” she finished.   
  
“I’m ready,” Cosette said, giving up on the dress. Ep was in the jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, accentuating everything that was tall and confident and radiant about her. She put a hand on her hip.   
  
“What do you think?” She asked, and suddenly Cosette couldn’t remember how to form words.   
  
“Beautiful, you look great. Buy that,” she managed after a silence and breath held too long.   
  
Ep looked at her image in the mirror and nodded in agreement. “Awesome, thanks. I don’t know where I’ll wear it but you’re right. I look fucking rad. Do you need help with that zipper?”   
  
Cosette had forgotten about the zipper but now she nodded, turning around quickly. “I like how different our styles are,” Eponine said as she moved Cosette’s long hair out of the way. “It’s like opposites attract you know?”  
  
“Yeah,” Cosette repeated dumbly. “Um, Eponine?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I know somewhere you could wear the jumpsuit.”  
  
She could see her eyebrows going up again in the mirror. “Enlighten me.”  
  
“Maybe to dinner? With me. As a um…maybe a date. If you’d be into trying that.”  
  
Ep laughed and Cosette nearly fainted. She zipped up the dress and leaned her chin on Cosette’s shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”


	3. Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Courfius)

Marius watched his wrists in quiet anticipation. Cosette was watching his ankles that were currently balanced in her lap. It wasn’t exact, and of course sometimes your soul mark showed up somewhere else (case in point, Cosette’s was a curling piece of ivy behind her ear that grew warm to the touch when her match Eponine was nearby.)   
  
Marius hoped it would show up soon. He hoped a lot of things but the hopes about his soulmate gnawed at his chest, beating on his rib age until they rearranged his insides.  
  
“What did I miss?” Courf burst in without knocking and joined them on the couch. “Happy birthday Mari,” he said cheerfully and handed him a box he recognized as belonging to the bakery down the street.  
  
“Thanks,” he replied, dumbfounded. Due to the nature of this birthday, the rest of the amis had decided to hold off on celebrations until tomorrow.   
  
“It’s no big deal if you’re too nervous to eat,” he amended, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Marius could see the simple sun design on his wrist. He’d liked it since it first appeared. He thought it suited Courf. He deserved someone whose essence was sunshine too. In the two weeks Courfeyrac had had it Marius had been holding his breath. It was hard to relax when someone who you’d always thought was meant for you could meet their real match in an instant. So far though, the corresponding sun hadn’t appeared.   
  
Marius attempted a smile and opened the box. It was a piece of carrot cake, Marius’s favorite, with a birthday candle stuck into it.   
  
“We can light it after you get your mark,” he said gently. He met his eyes cautiously and Marius thought he’d sounded a little sad. Two weeks was unusually long to wait for your soulmate. The marks were apt in finding the target, provided your match had their mark already. Ep and Cosette found each other in three days and they hadn’t seen each other since childhood. It took Enjolras and Grantaire approximately 30 seconds, though they were arguing at the moment Enjolras’s mark came in. Courf probably hated the waiting.   
  
“I hope they’re wonderful, whoever they are,” Courf said encouragingly. Marius thought about all the times Courf walked him home in the rain and all the hours he’d spent laughing at dumb movies beside him on the couch. He thought about how he held his hand at rallies and made sure he had a chance to speak up at meetings. He thought about how everything could change and for an instant he hated his soul mark to be.  
  
“Marius,” Cosette was reaching out, pointing to his left wrist with wide eyes. “I think it’s coming.”  
  
He looked down at the delicate shape appearing on his wrist. His eyes watered when it appeared. He exhaled everything he’d been feeling and stared down at the tiny sun.   
  
“Mari?” He looked over at Courf, whose identical mark was nearly glowing. His smile was so wide Marius forgot why he’d been so scared. “I think we’re a match.”


	4. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Courfius)

Marius stared down at his bloodied knees in shame. The party had only just begun. He’d had one drink at most. And yet here he was, wincing on Eponine’s kitchen counter as his best friend dabbed at his wreckage of scraped skin with a damp cloth.   
  
“Tell me if I’m hurting you okay?” Courfeyrac said seriously. “Are you sure it’s only your knees?”   
  
Marius thought he’d bruised his elbow as well when he tripped over his own feet in Ep’s driveway but he didn’t want to say so out loud. It was bad enough to be here with Courf now. Marius’s clumsiness had pulled Courf away from the beer pong tournament he’d been talking about winning all week (which Enjolras, of course, had rolled his eyes at.)   
  
“I’m sorry,” he said instead of answering. “I just got here and I’m already screwing things up.” He usually opted out of parties. He wasn’t good at them. He wasn’t open and charismatic and funny like Courf was. He stood awkwardly on the margins until one of his friends pulled him in. Or, apparently, he tripped.   
  
“You’re not screwing anything up,” Courf replied. He looked up at him and Marius could see the urgency in his gaze. “You know that right? You know how much I want you here?”  
  
Marius had come because Couefeyrac asked him to. He’d do a million awkward and panic inducing things if Courf asked him.   
  
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I know. I’m just sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry. I don’t care if you trip sometimes. I love you anyway.” It was an I love you to make his head spin. It was an I love you that slipped out and could be forgotten if they really wanted to. Courf was wide eyed and frozen. “I mean…”  
  
“I love you too,” Marius said. And his knees stung and Courf smiled and he felt light headed and like he needed bandaids all over to keep him from falling apart out of feeling. Courf smiled and he was falling all over again.


	5. Be Back Soon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Courfiusette)

They walked Cosette to the security check in. Marius held her hand the whole way and Courfeyrac listed off items of her luggage that he was sure she’d forgotten. She confirmed that each one was indeed in her bag. Marius thought he was looking for a reason for the three of them to turn around and spend another week together.

The break had gone by too fast. One moment they were staying up all night talking about everything that happened in the three months since school had started and they’d been separated, the next the amis were all in Courf’s living room for Thanksgiving (though Enjolras had refused to acknowledge it as such given the historical context of the holiday), and now they were here: dropping off Cosette for her flight back to New York.

It was hard to be long distance (and it was hard enough getting people to accept poly relationships anyway.) the three of them video chatted almost every night and the distance still felt impossible. The whole ABC had been scattered for college: Marius, Joly, Ep, and Bossuet were staying in town. Courf was 2 hours away. Cosette was across the country and Feuilly was only one state over. Combeferre, Enjolras, and consequently Grantaire were overseas. Getting everyone back in the same room was a goddamn miracle. Now his miracle was going back again.

“I’ll call you when I land,” she said, cupping his face in her hands. “Don’t cry Mari or I will.” Her hair was in her face. She wrapped Courf in a tight hug and then kissed him. Then she kissed Marius and he let go of her hand. When the silence in the car on the way back became unbearable, Courf suggested they stop for lunch. They found a diner with all day breakfast. Marius got pancakes. Courf got biscuits and gravy.

“I know it’s different without her,” he muttered, eyes on his plate. “I miss her whenever she goes. But I’m glad I’ve got you.”

“I’m glad I have you too,” he said. He thought about how Cosette pulled them all together. He thought about how when they danced to the radio in the kitchen they held hands in a circle. He thought about how Cosette was home again for winter break.

“We’re all going to be okay,” he said.


	6. In a Jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (e/r)

Enjolras had told himself not to make a habit of this, but here he was again: bleary eyed, over-caffeinated, and irritated in the computer lab at 2am again. This paper had really gotten away from him. He was sure it was overwritten (but it was already over the word count and he was out of time.)   
  
He mindlessly swiped his student ID and hit print. It was around page 3 when the printer jammed.   
  
“Dammit,” he cursed, teeth grinding mercilessly. “I don’t have time for this.”  
  
“You don’t have time for the weak and defenseless?”   
  
Enjolras whipped around and found R staring at him. Apparently he’d been sitting at a computer the whole time and Enjolras was too sleep-deprived to take note.   
  
“It’s a printer,” he growled. “Not a disenfranchised citizen.”  
  
R laughed and got up, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. Enjolras didn’t bother asking what he was doing here at this time of night. Grantaire was always there when Enjolras was having a meltdown it seemed.   
  
“Maybe I can help,” he said. Enjolras stepped aside. “For once,” he added self-deprecatingly.   
  
He fiddled with the jammed paper for a moment as Enjolras tried to ignore the wobbly feeling in his knees. He needed to go to bed now.   
  
“You need to go to bed now,” R said, holding out the crumpled page 3. “Print this again and then sleep Apollo. I know you’re not really a god.”  
  
“Thanks,” he replied, taking the paper. For all his faults, Grantaire was usually there when Enjolras needed him. It was almost cosmic how he did that. “Goodnight R.”  
  
“Yeah,” he smiled slightly. “Goodnight.”


	7. The Spooky Pals Investigate

“Alright guys, today we’re going to the infamous Wesley House. It’s known for its particularly active bedroom where Mary Wesley was brutally murdered by her husband Thomas and uh…crap we should just cut there I completely lost my place,” Marius’ leg was bouncing up and down in the sound booth and Courf had an uneasy feeling.

“What’s up?” He asked him, as they were packing up supplies for the shoot in the Wesley House. Combeferre was going to be filming, but right now he was calling the estate to make sure they were okay to look around unsupervised. In season one of The Spooky Pals Investigate they’d been run off a property. (Marius, of course, thought the angry security guard was a ghost and had screamed.)

“Nothing’s up,” he said, scanning the yellow legal pad he used for notes. He was wearing his glasses because he’d run out of contacts. Courf thought the glasses made him look more official. This morning when Marius had woken up (drool covered, barely coherent, bedhead prominent) he’d rolled over and groaned about the shoot. Courfeyrac had thought it was his usual fear of encountering a ghost.

“If you’re worried about the episode, don’t. It’s going to be great. This whole season has been amazing because of you,” he said, because it was true. Their last video just hit 5 million views and the new merch Jehan designed was already sold out. They’d been at this for 2 years and had amassed a frankly insane following in that time. Marius’ nervous but meticulous narration and unbridled fear in anyplace slightly spooky, coupled with Courfeyrac’s good natured sarcasm and general skepticism had made them a good team.

“I’m not worried about the episode I’m worried about the comments.” Marius said. “I think some people have figured out that we’re dating.”

“Okay,” Courfeyrac said, smile curling on his lips. “And?”

“And it’s going to be a whole thing. You know people are going to ask in the Q & A and then what?”

“Mari they watch for the comedy and that damn spirit box, not for our personal lives.”

Marius bit his lip. “You’re right I just…I don’t want anything to get complicated.”

“It’s okay,” Courf said. “Just don’t get possessed and everything will be okay.”

“Don’t joke about that. I’m bringing holy water.”

Marius thought he heard a ghost in every room of the Wesley House. Courf laughed when one of the ghosts turned out to be some drunk college kids yelling in the next block over. Courfeyrac knew Marius would have a field day interpreting the garbled voices they got from the spirit box, though the only thing he’d heard it say was sausage acreage, which didn’t mean anything but sounded funny as hell.

When they got home Marius lied down on the bed and scrolled through the comments on their last video.

“Look at some of these,” he muttered. “‘Courfeyrac’s shirt looks like the 80s vomited on it.’ I love that shirt. ‘There’s an orb in the background at 12:38’ whoa, check this out.” Marius held up the blurry screen and Courf grinned.

“Any speculation about your relationship status down there?” He asked.

“‘Wouldn’t the boys be so cute together?’ and uh…’we stan ghost hunting bfs’ that one has 80 likes.”

“Oh does it now? That doesn’t seem complicated to me.”

Marius dropped his phone. “I love you. I love you more than I believe in ghosts.”

“And I love you more than I’m sure you’re wrong about ghosts.”


	8. Pancakes and Eggs

Courf woke up on a couch he didn’t recognize. Enjolras’ coach was grey and lumpy and sat in front of a cluttered coffee table. Joly’s was spotless and smelled like air freshener. Grantaire’s was a couch you could really sink into, and R always put a blanket over him when he passed out. This couch was foreign. His head was pounding and he tried to piece together a rough timeline of the previous night.

Grantaire kept handing him frozen margaritas and Jehan had the scoop on a slew of house parties to rotate through once they got tired of the bar. Courfeyrac remembered a house with big ashtrays in every room and a 90s pop anthem playlist he greatly appreciated. He remembered fruit punch and vodka and Combeferre introducing him to the prettiest boy he’d ever seen.

Wait, what was his name again? What did he look like. Courfeyrac’s brain was two steps behind him, thoughts hovering in a hazy space between his eyes. He remembered freckles all over the guy's nose and cheeks. He remembered that his face was flushed and made the freckles stand out even more. He remembered nervous laughter, and that he talked so quickly and quietly that Courf had to lean in close to hear everything he said. He didn’t think the guy was as drunk as he was, which wasn’t saying much given the pain that was radiating through Courf‘s head.

There was a thin quilt draped over him. It was light and soft and smelled like lavender. He sat up.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Courf blinked. The pretty guy was there, standing in a kitchen with a frying pan and a small smile. His hair was messy and he was wearing pajamas.

“Um, yeah. Hi.” Courf said, sitting up straighter. “Sorry I’m…”

“I’m Marius,” the guy said before Courf could finish. “In case you couldn’t remember.” His smile grew fractionally. “I’m a friend of Eponine’s. She’s in the other room with my roommate Cosette. She and Combeferre thought it would be best not to move you after you passed out on our couch. They can come pick you up when you’re ready. Sorry, you just looked super confused so I thought I should clarify before you thought you’d been kidnapped or something.”

“Oh,” Courf said, feeling mildly humiliated. “Thanks. And uh…sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be sorry,” Marius shot back. He put the frying pan on the stove and flicked on the flame. “You’re a great house guest. Incredibly polite.”

Courf got up, smoothing the mess of his hair out of his eyes and feeling the hardwood firmly underfoot before standing.

“Polite?”

“Eponine said you were a friendly drunk.”

Courf winced. “And how drunk was I when we met?”

“You said I was the prettiest guy you’d ever seen,” Marius said, halfway to the fridge. He pulled out some eggs and milk and turned around to see Courfeyrac with his head in his hands at the counter, absolutely mortified.

“I said that out loud?”

“It’s okay. It was sweet,” Marius said. “Do you want pancakes and eggs? I can’t choose so I think I’m going to make both.”

“Let me help,” Courf said.

“Sure,” Marius said. “The pancake mix is in that cabinet.”

Courf retrieved the mix and started making the pancake batter. He remembered pieces of the night now. He remembered sitting next to Marius on the couch. He remembered a drunken game of Uno that Enjolras and Grantaire had ended up arguing over somehow.

“Did you say you were pre-law last night or am I misremembering?” Courf asked.

Marius nodded. “Yeah, I did.”

“Cause you want to advocate for kids who have to testify in court.”

“That’s right,” Marius said. He cracked some eggs into a bowl. “I did say that.”

Courf laughed. “I could remember that but not your name.”

“Well, you’ve got it now,” Marius said. “And that’s what counts.

“I’m sure I told you all about myself, then?”

“Actually, it was more like a set of discreet rants about your friends and how much you love and value them.”

“Well, okay then.” Courf handed over the pancake batter and Marius heated up a new pan as he finished off the eggs.

“Cosette, Eponine! Get up before you miss breakfast,” Marius called down the hallway. He turned and added to Courfeyrac “I’m sure you can tell me all about yourself over coffee sometime, if you want.”

“Oh,” Courf grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that. Do you want to give me your number?”

Marius scooped the eggs out of the pan. Courf could hear Eponine and Cosette stirring in the bedroom, their laughter distant and happy.

“You’ve already got it,” Marius said.


	9. Bad Mornings

Courfeyrac had a checklist for Marius’ bad mornings. It included a coffee run to the Musain before Marius woke up (to pick up Marius’ usual hot chocolate and cinnamon coffee cake), tuning the radio to Marius’ favorite oldies station (of which he even found the ads comforting), and texting the les amis group message to see who wanted to go out for laser tag in the evening. He’d just gotten back from the coffee run, shedding his coat and boots, of which he’d tucked the ends of his too long pajama pants, when he discovered that today was an especially bad morning.

Marius was still in bed, but sat up with a worried expression and phone in hand.

“I know,” he said, sounding defeated. He ran a hand through his messy hair and glanced up at Courfeyrac apologetically as he put his hot chocolate and coffee cake on the bedside table. “I know, Grandfather, and I’m flying home as soon as my exams are finished. I would be home sooner but the plane ticket’s expensive and…I know. I wasn’t asking you to…Grandfather, I need to go. I’ll see you on Tuesday. I’m sorry.”

Marius hung up and buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “This trip is going to be a nightmare and I still wish you could come with me.”

Courfeyrac slipped into the bed next to him and wrapped his arms around Marius’ shoulders. He’d been borderline forced to spend Thanksgiving with his Grandfather and the rest of the family who’d never had a kind word for him. Courf couldn’t come with him because Marius’ family consistently ignored the fact that he had a fiancé, though they’d lived together for three years. When Marius told his Grandfather about his engagement he’d pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered into the warmth of his neck. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“I don’t think I can get through a whole week with them,” he said. His voice shook and Courfeyrac felt profoundly angry. “It’s just shit from start to finish. My Grandfather wants me to fly out earlier but I can’t and…god he’s not even helping me pay for the ticket, even though he knows I’m broke most of the time. And he’s still pissed that I want to be a public defender and he’s acting like that makes all of law school worthless. It doesn’t matter that I’m happier than I’ve ever been and that I’m in love and that I—“ he stopped and looked over at the hot chocolate on the bedside table. “Why are you always so nice to me? I don’t deserve it.” He breathed.

When Courf met him Marius had $30 to his name, a face full of stress acne, and an anxious laugh that sounded like he was choking. He’d grown so much that Courfeyrac forgot that scared, hopeless Marius existed. Back them his family hadn’t helped him, the amis had.

Courfeyrac took Marius’ face in his hands gently and kissed him. They pulled apart and he kissed him again. Marius looked soft and surprised and like the panic was melting from his tired eyes and tense shoulders.

“Because it’s easy. And I love you,” Courfeyrac said. “I’m sorry your family made you feel like you don’t deserve kindness. That’s bullshit. You do.”

Marius leaned into his side and they sat quietly. Marius’ hot chocolate was probably getting cold.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “I love you too.”


	10. Stay Cool

Cosette was in love with a pop punk guitarist. Well, maybe love was too strong a word. She’d followed her gigs for the past month and had spent most of her weekends in dark basements under flashing lights and among crowds of warm, drunk, happy people.

The guitarist had streaks in her dark hair, purple one week, blue the next, and most recently a lime green Cosette liked the best. When she really got going she flipped her bangs this way and that to keep them out of her eyes and she grinned breathlessly at her band mates like there was only that moment. On stage, she’d said her name was Eponine.

Cosette was getting better at pushing her way to the front of the crowd. It was easier when Courfeyrac came with her because he was so loud and charismatic anyone would move for him.

“You should go talk to her,” Courf said once, as they hovered at the edge of the crowd.

“I can’t just…I mean she wouldn’t want to talk to me,” Cosette muttered as the lights flashed above them.

“Why wouldn’t she want to talk to you?”

 _Because I’m not cool_ , Cosette thought, but didn’t say. Cosette didn’t look the part. She felt uncomfortable in the majority of the crowd’s attire: fishnets, combat boots, ripped jeans, and dark eye makeup. She stuck out in her pastel dresses and cardigans, but she couldn’t help it.

Tonight the crowd was louder than ever. There were lights strung from the ceiling in yet another basement for the show. They blinked off and on every so often, so Eponine and her band mates flickered in and out of Cosette’s vision. Every song brought the crowd to deafening cheers. Cosette watched Eponine’s fingers, each nail adorned with chipped black polish, glide across the strings. They sounded phenomenal.

“Cosette?” Halfway through the set someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned around to see Marius, smiling at her nervously with a red solo cup in hand.

“Marius! What are you doing here?” She asked.

“My friend’s in the band,” he said, as the band warmed up for the next song. The lead singer was saying something about it being the last of the night.

“Oh,” Cosette said, taken aback. Marius spent a good number of his evenings watching game show reruns and going to bed at 9:30; she hadn’t expected him to know anyone in a band. “Who do you know?”

“Eponine, the guitarist,” he said, and Cosette nearly fainted.

“Do you think you could introduce me?” She blurted, before she could stop herself.

“Really?” Marius said, face lighting up. “I’d be happy to. I’m actually trying to get her to come to an amis meeting and…”

Cosette nodded but her brain was a mile away. Oh god, what was she even going to say? I like your guitar? No, that sounded dumb.

After the song, when the cheering had died down and the crowd dissipated, Marius brought Cosette to her rock star dream girl.

“Ep, this is my friend Cosette. Cosette this is Eponine,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Eponine said. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat but she grinned at her and stuck out a hand for Cosette to shake.

“I’ll get you some water,” Marius said, darting away before Cosette could cling to him.

“Have you known Marius long?” Eponine asked, her green streaks matched her eyes. Cosette could tell up close.

“All my life, it seems like,” she said.

“He’s a good friend,” Eponine said. Cosette nodded dumbly. “Hey, have you been to a show before? You look really familiar.”

She flushed. “Yeah, I uh…I really like watching you guys play so I um, I try to see all your shows,” she admitted.

“All of them?” Eponine said, her grin was back full force. Cosette couldn’t feel her arms.

“Sorry, that’s so weird.”

“Naw, it’s dedication. You’re like our number one fan.” Eponine winked at her and Cosette’s knees felt unreasonably wobbly.

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess I am.”

“Well I suppose the least I can do is ask you out for coffee some time, to say thank you,” Eponine said, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “If you’d like?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

“Alright,” Eponine said. “Stay cool, Cosette,” she said.

Like she thought she was cool in the first place.


End file.
